word choice
by thir13enth
Summary: Lucy is not amused that she has to babysit Erza's brats after soccer practice today, especially after Erza explains that Jellal is "distracting" her. Jerza. Implied Nalu.
**notes** : Originally was going to be less than 500 words. Oops. Also, this is relatively experimental writing. Not my usual stuff. Call it **fluffsmut**. Or **smutfluff.** Whichever floats your boat.
 **more:** Also, yes, I know it's Angst Week. My muse likes to oppose me. This totally sucks.

* * *

Erza falls directly into her bed when she comes home from work.

She feels worse than the wilted carrots that sit in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator, still unable to participate in one of the week's dinner stews—and when she remembers about the vegetables, she huffs again into her pillow, remembering that she still has to get started to working on dinner…

Not to mention she still has to pick up the kids from soccer practice in about twenty minutes.

So she kicks off her heels and rolls completely under the cover and between the sheets, making her body as comfortable as it can lie in her business casual pants and button up shirt. She rubs her eyes, blinking against the afternoon sun, but she lets the light warmth settle over her body.

She channels her inner house cat and closes her eyes. She decides to nap for just a moment, reaching her hands down to the waist of her pants to shimmy them down as she starts to fall…

fast…

fast…

asleep…

.

.

.

"Hey."

No. Just…one…more—

"Erza."

"Mmrph, Jellal—" Her eyes open and she sees his face on the other side of the pillow.

He smiles in amusement. "Good morning, love."

She notices that he's already resting comfortably in just his boxers and that his hair is sleep-messy.

"I thought you weren't home until late today."

"That patient that could only see me at 8pm today? They ended up cancelling the appointment," he explains. "I'm home early."

"Ah, good," she says. She turns to face him, nuzzling his nose.

His eyes twinkle a bit. He gestures downwards. "Need help undressing?"

She looks down at her pants, bunched at her ankles like snakeskin. The last thing she remembers is…well, indeed, attempting to strip herself.

"No…" she says. She guesses she fell asleep in the middle of that. A little embarrassed, she folds her knees into her torso as she reaches her hands down to completely pull her work clothes off. He helps her and tosses the pants onto the floor.

"I was too tired," she explains. "I just came back from work and literally dropped into bed. I just wanted to have a quick nap before—"

She sits up, suddenly remembering. "Jellal! The kids! I have to go pick them up!"

He cranes his neck back behind him to look at the time. "You have…thirteen minutes," he tells her, turning back around. He lifts his torso up from bed slightly and pulls her back down into the sheets. "Stay just a little while longer," he suggests, wrapping one arm around her and bringing her back up against his chest. "Cuddle with me."

"Okay," she agrees, without hesitation. She turns around in his embrace and rests her forehead against his. She takes a deep breath in and out, tangling her limbs comfortably within his.

She closes her eyes again, but opens them soon after she realizes he's unbuttoning her shirt. She watches his fingers work off her clothing and then coordinates her body movements with him so that when he's finished undoing the whole row, they can pull her arms out of her sleeves and she can rest back comfortably without a stitch more than her underwear into bed.

Erza rewards his behavior by hugging his head into her chest, pushing his face right into her cleavage.

He laughs and turns his head up to kiss the base of her neck. She smiles, turning her face downwards to kiss his lips. Her hand rests on his chest and runs upwards, eventually tracing his collarbone, following the curve of his shoulder, and trailing down his arm. She grabs his wrist and—oops—oops—what—she places his hand over her right breast.

She doesn't know what possessed her to do this, but she's not particularly displeased about her subconscious decision either way.

He glances at where she's guided his hand and then looks lazily back up at her.

She simply smiles.

She feels the mood in the air shift as he gently pushes her back against the mattress. His hand squeezes, and she bits her bottom lip, feeling herself harden under her bra cups. He rests his knees just under her bottom, splitting her thighs with his torso as he leans over her. He kisses her cheek and she closes her eyes, humming in anticipation.

Before she knows it, her bra falls to the floor join the rest of her clothing. His mouth and hands replace. She watches his tongue circle once, twice, before his lips close over. He patiently thumbs the opposite side, before he pops his mouth off and treats the other symmetrically.

Her fingers comb through his hair, slowly pushing him down, down, down over her waist, over her stomach, over her underwear that is so ready to be pulled off—and _is_ pulled off within the next couple of seconds.

His mouth comes down again and his lips warm up a bit before his tongue moistens and wow—he's _so_ good.

She sighs audibly. "Oh…"

How is he _so damn_ good?

Is this why she married him?

No, silly, she reminds herself. She married him because she loves him…especially when he's—

"Oh, Jellal…" she groans, feeling her hips angle upwards.

"Jellal…"

"Mmm…Jellal…"

However, her moans are not quite loud enough to mask the sound of her phone vibrating.

"…fuck."

She clumsily reaches for her phone and her heart jumps three times. Once, because it's her twelve-year-old daughter's name on the caller ID. Twice, because the time is much _much_ later than she expected. And three, because he hit a really fucking good spot.

She lets out a gasp before she takes the call.

"Hello?" she asks as innocent as she can—while he's down working on her sin.

"Mom. Where are you?"

"I'm late, I'm sorry," she apologizes immediately. Her vowels comes out a little more stressed than she wants them to.

"When are you getting here? We've been standing here for ten minutes already."

"Soon, soon," she promises, lust-slurred into the phone. She tries to make it less obvious that Mom is most definitely _not_ doing something they should know she is doing. "I'm…" She inhales deeply. "…coming soon."

Jellal looks up from her thighs with a wry smile etched across his jaw. He raises an eyebrow at her word choice. He chuckles softly, and she can feel his laugh on her wet skin.

"…don't stop," she scolds him, but she breathes it heavy into the phone before realizing her mistake.

"…" her daughter replies. "Don't stop…? Mom? Are you at the gym?"

"Yes! Sorry!" Erza gasps. She curses to herself. "Yes! I'll be there soon! I promise! Just wait!"

"Okay then, Mom," her daughter grumbles. She hangs up briefly afterward.

Her kids are not happy that she will be late picking them up.

They also will be very disappointed that dinner will probably be takeout again.

Especially if Jellal keeps this—

"Ah, fuck!" she blurts. Her hips buckle and her thighs lightly squeeze his head. She arches her back, grasps the sheets, inhales cold air into her legs before she relaxes her legs apart again, exhales hot steam into the pillow. "Oh my god…"

He lifts his head up again. "Coming soon, huh?" he coyly asks.

She softly smacks the top of his head, tugging his hair and pushing his mouth back on her. "Yes," she says, between her teeth. "Don't stop. Don't you fucking…Jella—oh…oh my _god_ …"

She remembers that she's late. Erza looks at the time and reminds herself that she's way _way_ late. It's no wonder her daughter called.

She needs to get going. But—

"Ah…" she moans, inhaling sharply again.

But can she get herself going?

"Jellal, that was—"

"I know," he interrupts. His deep voice rumbles, sending pleasant tickles up and down her body. "I'll finish you quick."

"Mmm," she replies, gratefully. She lets herself relax again and feels her tension building—very quickly, because now he's tracing the patterns that he knows gets her every. single. time.

And suddenly she doesn't know if she even _wants_ to finish.

She's not ready to finish. She doesn't want to be done.

"Oh, stop, stop, stop," she commands suddenly, sitting herself up. She crosses her legs, accidentally back-heeling his head as she reaches for her phone again, dialing quickly.

"Ah," he says, rubbing the back of his head. He looks up, confused. "What happened?"

"Nothing," she replies, pressing her ear back onto her phone.

She waits until the other end picks up.

"Oh—hey, Lucy?"

"Yeah?" Lucy sounds puzzled.

"Can you do me the _biggest_ favor and pick up my kids from soccer practice?" she quickly asks, skipping the formalities. "You're still at the field, right?"

"No…" Lucy replies. Her voice distances from the phone and Erza hears her telling Natsu to turn the car back around. "I can go back…what happened?"

"Nothing," Erza answers. "I'm just…I can't pick them up until really late."

"What happened?"

"Nothing!" Erza insists. "Really, it's just…well, something came up with Jellal."

She sees Jellal's sly expression in reaction to her deadbeat lie and feels herself blushing mad.

There's a brief moment of silence over the phone.

"Erza, you're terrible at lying," Lucy then accuses. "If you're just busy _hanging out_ with Jellal, you could have just said that."

Erza hears Natsu guffaw loudly in the background.

"I—well—yes," Erza confesses.

"Yeah, okay, thanks," Lucy continues, harshly. "I'll pick up them and I'll take them to our house. I'll take care of them until you come."

A beat.

"Until you…come," Lucy repeats.

Lucy sounds disappointed at her poor word choice.

Erza hears Natsu bust laughing again. She hears Lucy's children in the background demanding to know what is so funny. She hears Lucy sigh.

"Thank you _so_ much, Lucy. I totally owe you one," Erza thanks her long-time friend. "I won't be much longer, I swear—"

"—ohmygod— _okay_ ," Lucy blurts. "I don't need any more imagery, thanks."

The line immediately goes dead—"Rude," Erza clucks offhandedly—but as she lies herself back down and feels Jellal's hands part her thighs once more, she admits she honestly didn't mind skipping the goodbyes.

* * *

Yeah, I know I beat the 'come' pun dead to the ground in this one. Lol. Forgive me. I mean, the story _is_ called **word choice**.

Also, fluffsmut or smutfluff? What should I label these in the future? (Or this is honestly just smut.)

 **thir13enth**


End file.
